Codename Cupid: Chapter 8
Previous: Another Shot At Love Pt. 2
Pairing: Min Yoongi X OFC, Park Jimin X OMC
Genre: Secret AgentAU, AgentAU, Government Agent AU, Slice of Life
Rating: NC17
Word Count: 3.5k
Warnings: Swearing, Legal Alcohol Consumption, Degradation, Humiliation, Verbal Abuse, Horrible Family, Bullying, Sibling Rivalries, Homophobia, Toxic Masculinity
Summary: Codename Suga joins Codename Cupid at her parents house for family dinner. It’s both everything he imagined, and so much worse.
Codename Another Shot at Love Part 3
Fall Post Graduation
Park Yoongi, Codename Suga, arrived at the Lee residence dressed to the nines, a new suit, top of the line glasses and Ferragamo loafers that Hoseok had picked out especially for him. Nothing about his look screamed mid-level employee at a top-level bank, or government agent bent on destroying a company from within, which was the point. Namjoon had determined that to impress the Lee’s, Codename Valentine, Suga had to be runway ready. His hair was slicked back, and in his arms, a bottle of Makers 46, a bottle Cupid had ensured her father would appreciate. In his ear, a flesh-colored earpiece, specially designed, allowing his teammates, Codenames RM, Worldwide Handsome and J-Hope, to feed him lines when needed.
Adjusting his spectacles and turning them on, Suga’s vision was momentarily blocked as the sensors began their job scanning everything and everyone insight, transmitting data in real time to his set up at OT7 headquarters. The glasses, a creation he had spent the better part of a year working on, were a modification of his third-generation specs. Not only could they recognize faces, scan for heat sensors, but log sounds such as alarm codes and lock patterns, decoding their passcodes in seconds. This was a marked improvement from the generation twos, which recorded sound and took up to 24 hours to decode. The recorded surveillance was wired through the major databases used by OT7 to track down faces of everyone Suga came in contact with. Tonight, their goal was to memorize every aspect of the Lee’s estate, transmit the layout into a CAD (computer aided design) drawing and print a scaled blueprint. They were also responsible for identifying every human in the Lee’s house, pulling names, birthdays, permanent addresses and social security numbers. In his glasses case, Suga had placed several microscopic microphones, which he placed on any surface he touched. They might not have eyes inside the mansion, but OT7 would have ears.
“Park Yoongi,” The attendant declared as he stepped through the foyer and into the sitting room, where the entire Lee, Codename Valentine, family sat waiting for him.
“Good evening,” Yoongi bowed deeply, a remnant of his heritage and a sign of respect.
“Yoongi!” Euna said, standing and quickly wrapping her arms around his neck. Leaning in, she placed a delicate kiss on his cheek. “Mom, dad, this is Yoongi, my boyfriend.”
Mr. Lee rose, looked Yoongi up and down before he spoke, “I hear you work for us. Good.”
“Yes, sir, I do,” Yoongi nodded.
“Your work is good, you fly under the radar, if you’re to continue this with Euna, you will need to do better,” Mr. Lee extended his hand, shaking Yoongi’s, before moving past him.
“Sir, I brought you a gift, I heard it’s one of your favorites,” Yoongi handed the man the bottle and watched as he unwrapped it. His oafish hands tore through the tissue paper, impatient to get his hands on something he didn’t buy but eagerly wanted.
“Ahh, a bribe, thoughtful,” Mr. Lee said before handing the bottle to the head of house, who had quietly walked into the room. She took it and carefully moved to place it on the shelf which housed an impressive collection of whiskey.
Mrs. Lee looked at her cohort of older children. “Don’t be rude.”
The three children rose and walked towards Yoongi. Towering over him, Dae-Seong and Jun-Seo glared down at him, a sinister smirk on both their faces.
“Dae-Seong,” He said, squeezing Yoongi’s hand harder than necessary.
“Jun-Seo,” He repeated the action, his hold lighter, his smirk faded into a thin line, laced with more concern than Yoongi imagined Dae-Seong could ever muster.
“Yoongi,” Kwan-Min bowed before extending her hand, “Kwan-Min.” Her smile mirrored Euna’s, gentle and vibrant. Her eyes told the same story as her brothers, watch your back.
“Nice to meet you,” Yoongi responded. Carefully taking a seat next to Euna, he smiled tersely at the family.
“Yoongi, tell us about yourself,” Mrs. Lee requested. She slowly clinked the perfectly shaped sphere of ice in her glass, it slowly melting into the brown liquid.
“Is there anything specific you want to know?” He responds politely.
“Your file is thin, you don’t seem to want to advance at Lee Enterprises, so how’d you end up here?” Dae-Seong doesn’t mince words. Much like the booming timbre of his voice, his words cut straight to the point.
“I worked in the Manhattan branch every summer of college, had two internships my junior and senior year, and then applied for an entry level position,” Yoongi could hear Namjoon, Codename RM, in his ear, repeating the fabricated story made ever more real by Hoseok’s ability to forge documents.
“They moved you out here?” Mr. Lee questioned.
“Yes, they asked if I would transfer,” Yoongi replied.
“Why?” Dae-Seong was perplexed, no new hire was asked to transfer unless they were a problem worth handling.
“They said I was polished, and my work was good,” Yoongi shrugged. WWH reminded him to lean into the nonchalance, the ultimate fuck-you attitude the Lee’s hated.
“Seems vague,” Jun-Seo remarked. “Your childhood was rather bleak, wasn’t it?”
“It wasn’t the best, but it was temporary,” Yoongi knew this was the line of questioning they’d take, and not just with him, with anyone not from the upper echelon, anyone not worth less than 100 million.
“Your parents were, sorry, are, quite poor,” Dae-Seong pressed.
“Poor to some is rich to others,” Yoongi answered.
“But poor is still, poor,” Jun-Seo responded.
“You haven’t dated much, either have you Yoongi?” Kwan-Min’s voice was velvet, soft and supple in the tense air.
“I’ve had a few relationships, but none like Euna,” Mr. World Wide’s voice was clear and gentle, sell it Suga.
“What makes her so different? Clearly you see things that we don’t,” Dae-Seong snorted back a laugh, it was a hideous sound, loud and haunting.
“I see a lot of things in Euna. She’s thoughtful, considerate, she’s caring and funny. She accepts me for who I am, and makes me a better person,” Yoongi laid on the compliments like he hadn’t spent the last two weeks rehearsing them for OT7.
It had taken him a while to list the characteristics he liked about Cupid, and ultimately had recruited WWH to write it for him. He stared at the words Mr. Handsome wrote, and was shocked that he still cared this much about her. Yoongi felt none of these things, none of these adjectives or memories that Mr. Handsome had strewn together resonated with him in the slightest. Cupid was a mark, a pawn in the play, nothing more.
“Huh, lucky someone does,” Jun-Seo laughed, ribbing Dae-Seong and leading him in a cackle all their own. Yoongi glanced at Euna to see her jaw set, cheeks flushed, eyes glossed.
“Jun-Seo, you have a guest,” The attendant from the front door announced, standing taught at the door. A blond-haired man entered, smirking with a hint of humor. Yoongi stared at his dazzling smile and kind eyes.
“You made it!” Jun-Seo stood to engulf the man in a hug, lips pressing aggressively to his lips. “I thought you said you were busy.”
“I got away,” The blond responded.
“It’s lovely to see you,” Mrs. Lee stood to embrace the man, followed by Kwan-Min. Yoongi watched carefully as Dae-Seong and Mr. Lee scowled, arms crossed, brows set. They didn’t have to speak their distaste for Jun-Seo’s apparent partner, it was written in their body language.
“It’s lovely to see you too,” He said. His eyes didn’t glance at the elder males but landed squarely on Yoongi and Euna.
“Lee Euna, is that how you greet me?” He questioned, a hand resting on his hip, hair lightly falling in his eyes.
“I’m so happy to see you!” She bounded off the settee towards him, arms around his neck, holding him close. “I didn’t think I’d get to see you before the big trip!”
Yoongi stared, dumbfounded, and blinked quickly, trying to understand the rapid change in her demeanor. Gone were the tears, the anger, the hate that was coursing through her body. It was replaced with care? Genuine excitement? What the hell is the big trip?
“I had to get in one more family dinner before I’m gone for the month,” The blond smiled warmly at Euna, a twinkle in his eye as he glanced at Yoongi. “Is that?”
“Oh! This is my boyfriend, Park Yoongi. Yoongi, meet Jun-Seo’s partner, Cho Jimin,” Euna said. The two men exchanged a handshake before sitting down next to their respective partners.
“How long have you and Jun-Seo been together?” Yoongi inquired.
“Hm, a year?” Jun-Seo replied, a hand resting gently on Jimin’s thigh.
“Did you meet at work or-
“Twenty questions with the twinks! Line em up, it’s time to play!” Dae-Seong yelled, earning a chuckle from his father. “First question, who tops and who bottoms? Follow up, is Jun-Seo as weak of a top as he-
“Dinner is ready,” The head of house said, stepping into the room just in time. Rolling his eyes, Dae-Seong stood.
“You’re gonna need your strength,” He winked at Jimin before brushing past them and heading for the dining room. Yoongi followed obediently and cautiously, taking his time putting one foot in front of the other as he followed the Lee’s. Pausing every so often, he carefully trailed a finger over a surface, leaving a singular mic, completely invisible, behind.
The dining room was stunning, taken out of the palace of Versailles with a Korean twist, the marble floors and ornate chandeliers were out of this world. Flowers blooming in ancient vases, artwork that looked to be that of Picasso and An Kyŏn, Monet and Manet, lining the walls like the Louvre. There wasn’t anything the Lee’s money couldn’t buy, even 15th century originals were bound to become fodder in their quest for prestige.
Draped across the table, a gold runner, glittering with what could only be described as actual gold flakes. Waterford Crystal glasses, and hand painted china rested delicately against the gold, the white shining brilliantly under the lights of the chandelier. Awaiting the guests, an endless array of traditional Korean food: Jjajangmyeon, Bulgogi, Samgyetang, Kalguksu, Galbi, Dubu Kimchi, Kimchi Fried Rice, with bowls of Hobakjuk as everyone’s appetizers, and Gyeranjjim waiting on a refined plate to be consumed with each passing spice.
Yoongi’s eyes were wide, his lungs breathing rapidly to take in the scents of home, of familiarity. How peculiar to be eating the cuisine of his ancestors, of his blood, in a room with people who would willing spill each other’s.
“Yoongi, sit next to Dae-Seong.” Mr. Lee instructed.
Excellent, Namjoon muttered in his ear.
“Dae-Seong, I hear that you’re making quite a splash as the Chairman,” Yoongi voiced.
“Only bottom feeders eat my ass, Yoongi. For that you need to see Jun-Seo, appointment only,” Dae-Seong rolled his eyes.
“Please, do not speak of your brother’s depravity at dinner. Save it for dessert,” Mr. Lee scolded, eyes hard on Dae-Seong.
“When are we going to discuss Kwan-Min’s latest triste?” Jun-Seo inquired.
“Now seems like the perfect opportunity,” Mr. Lee answered. “Dae-Seong?”
In some sort of twisted ritual, Dae-Seong cracked his knuckles, then his neck, swirled a sip of whiskey between his lips and leaned in. Batting his eyes delicately at Kwan, he bared his teeth. Yoongi restrained from asking “you getting this?” to his team, because they were in fact, watching with bated breath.
“The category is, colossal fuck ups. The reining champ, for the first time in, Euna, how old are you? Never mind, age has no number when you’re a twat. Kwan-Min, for a million dollars, explain how you found yourself cunt up with a political fundraiser? I’m sorry, a Republican political fundraiser?”
Mrs. Lee gasped, her soup spoon dropping aggressively into her bowl, rattling the china. Euna didn’t look up, but quietly shoveled soup into her mouth, feigning ignorance.
“Kwan-Min, how could you?” Mrs. Lee demanded.
“If the rumors are true, and we’ll need Jun to confirm, Mr. Brady, I believe?” Dae-Seong inhales, eyes never leaving Kwan’s, voice even, “He’s particularly gifted in a few areas, and very well endowed and what was that other word? Oh yes, generous.”
“Quite a generous tongue on that one,” Jun responded, shame flickering past his eyes in a brief moment before his resolve solidified.
“How could you?” Mrs. Lee repeats again. “You are the second eldest of this family, the face of our philanthropy, and you are consorting with a known republican? Not to mention a man so cruel he, he,
“He thinks Dae-Seong is weak,” Euna spoke. Her wavering voice echoed over the table, everyone’s eyes turning to her. “I mean, that’s what you’re doing, right Kwan? Find someone so repugnant that Dae is outraged, spurring on another break down in hopes he’ll OD and you’ll what, become chairwoman of the board?”
“Fuck you for insinuating I make my decisions based on Dae. Do you live and breathe at his request?” Kwan spat, the heat from the food and the fight rising in her cheeks.
“No,” Euna was incredulous, how could Kwan assume that?
Through gritted teeth she responded, “Neither do I.”
“For two million, Mr. Chairman,” Jun motioned toward Dae, “explain to us how you could be fucking a member of the opposing party, who has tried to ruin this family numerous times? Is the dick that great?” Jun-Seo pressed.
“Don’t pretend that you haven’t fucked him, fag,” Dae laughed. “You two are the biggest whores in the game.”
“That’s not true,”
“The fact that you’re Eskimo siblings, not once, not twice, but have shared more than three sexual partners is revolting. You’re fucking freaks, sodomizing the legacy of this family for some log cabin taint who can’t even be bothered to pay the child support for the kids he knows about.”
“How do you know so many categories of gay men?” Euna asked, eyes narrowing at Dae-Seong, “You been experimenting?”
“Oh, don’t even get me started on you and your choices, Euna,” Dae rolled his eyes then glanced at Jun-Seo, who was sneering at him.
“What could you possibly say that you haven’t before?” Euna cackled, a sound so foreign Yoongi can’t help but feel his eyes bug out.
“Whoa,” Mr. Handsome says in his ear.
“Oh shit,” RM responds.
“You’re not even worth discussing,” Kwan-Min stepped in, and swinging the last of her cocktail back, she turned to Dae-Seong. “I’m more interested in your affinity for homosexual stereotypes. Tell me, when you’re alone in your house, your wife sleeping in a separate apartment, cities away, is that what you’re watching? Is that what gets you off? Picturing a willing gaping hole, just waiting to be ruined? Or no, I’m sorry, but Jun, don’t you think he’d be-
“A power bottom? Absolutely, he spends his nights ogling over submissive bears, trying to find one big enough to fill him, scrolling through chatrooms under, what was his username?” Jun-Seo doesn’t look at Kwan, he knows she understands what is about to transpire.
“Beary-willing007,” They recite together.
J-Hope guffaws in Suga’s ear, followed by a loud “oh shit!”
“I can’t imagine how it would look if your little, what did you call it?” Kwan asked.
“The twink or the fag?” Jun-Seo repeated Dae’s words so seamlessly, so effortlessly, to a blind eye it would’ve been hard to tell that Jun wasn’t Dae’s twin.
“Both, if your nefarious activities and browser history was discovered, or dare a say, leaked?” Kwan raised an eyebrow.
“You think you scare me?” Dae-Seong asked. “Summer, 2012, what happened to you?”
“Why would you bring that up?” Kwan’s glare faltered, a subtle shift in her brow, the sneer dipping before returning at full capacity.
“We need to know what happened summer 12,” RM stated, voice low as he jotted down the date.
“You want to throw dirty laundry out into the open, might as well air yours,”
“Fuck you,”
“I didn’t start this,”
“Yes you did,”
“Jun-Seo, care to tell us what happened to you winter, 2014?”
“No,”
“I thought so,” Dae pointed his knife at each of them, “Before you go accusing me of being a fucking homo, check that I don’t have your history sealed and filed.”
“Did you get that?” RM asked.
“Yeah, got it,” J-Hope responded.
“And Euna,” Dae turned his attention to his youngest sibling, who sat quietly eating her food. “Don’t ever bring a bottom feeder home again, unless he’s going to eat my ass, you hear me? Or I will do to you what was done to Kwan-pussy-ass-Min.”
“Fuck you Dae,” Euna spewed.
“Excuse me?” He yelled, standing to his full height.
“I said, fuck you,” Euna repeated with a little more gumption.
“Oh Euna, little Euna, too smart for everyone, too polite and meek to ever be taken seriously, to fucking boring and oblivious to know that her boyfriend’s only date her for access or career status, so stupid that she can’t recognize that the only reason she’s getting the company is that she’s so incompetent, no one will believe her when –
“Dae-Seong!” Mr. Lee yelled.
“Don’t bring a fucking knife to a gun fight, Euna, I will end you.” He seethed.
“What is your problem with Yoongi? He’s the first man I bring home and you-
“What do you not understand about our family? What do you not understand about the caliber of person we need to be with in order to-
“What, watch porn, order sex workers and pray the gay away?” Euna yelled.
“Watch your tone,” Mr. Valentine said.
“You’re acting like you don’t have secrets, like your marriage is pure and good, it’s not Dae. I don’t blame her for leaving you, anyone with a modicum of sense would see that you are nothing more than a toxic, manipulative, alcoholic coke head, who only has his job because daddy loves him the most.”
“You think your relationship with Yoongi is going to be any different?” Jun-Seo spoke up, deflecting from the rising anger in Dae. “What makes you so special?”
“First, I love him,” Euna responded, earning a scoff and eyeroll from every member of the Lee family. “Second, if he makes it out alive from this dinner with you assholes, then he truly is the most resilient person in the world. Finally,”
“Thank fuck,” Jun-Seo exclaimed.
“Finally, he was raised to be kind and respectful, unlike the four of us,” Euna concluded with a haughty exhale and a glare at her mother.
“Wait – are you sure that’s not just Seokjin in a new suit?” Dae-Seong cackled, nodding at their father who also laughed.
“I hate this family,” Euna rose and tossed her napkin on the floor, a dramatic flair that sent her brothers and father into a fit of laughter.
“You act like you aren’t the ingrown hair on the taint of this family, and I think I speak for all of us when I say that I would love to extract you,” Dae said.
His words hung in the air as Euna walked out of the living room, Yoongi on her tail.
Catching up to her, Yoongi reached for her hand, which she hastily pulled away.
“Euna,” His voice was measured.
“Can we please just go?” She whispered, tears beginning to stream down her face.
“Yeah, can I just run to the bathroom quick? Grab the coats and I’ll meet you outside,” He pressed a kiss to her forehead before following one of the workers to the nearest bathroom. Hoping to shake the worker, Yoongi deftly exited the bathroom before wandering down the hall. He followed the sound of voices and stopped short of what he assumed was Mr. Lee’s office.
Mr. Lee stood next to Dae-Seong, a fresh glass of whiskey in hand. “Did you read the brief on UAE?”
“Yes,” Dae-Seong answered.
“I want your recommendations tomorrow by 9AM,” Mr. Lee instructed, “None of that pussy shit you drew up for Spain, either.”
“Pussy shit in Spain is child’s play in the Emirates. I’ll bring something, nuclear,”
“Don’t jerk me around like you do with your pathetic excuse for a cock, Dae. I do not want to have to fire you and replace you with Jun-Seo,” Mr. Lee slammed his glass down before retreating through a door Yoongi hadn’t seen when he’d glanced in.
“I’m sorry father, I will have the materials ready,” Dae’s voice was pathetic, deflated in the wake of his father’s anger. He hated being belittled and demeaned, hated the hurt his father hurled at him, the constant need for him to be better than everyone else. He hated how easily it came to Euna, how she could understand the numbers and draw connections within seconds of being presented with the problem. He hated Euna’s prowess, how businessmen and women flocked to her, a cello prodigy, ballet star in training, perfect grades, whored out to different branches so she could learn the business. Every fuck up Dae-Seong had made resulted in Euna’s success, and their father and mother, though more covertly, had egged his jealousy on.
Yoongi placed a mic on the inside of the door before slipping back into the hallway and out of the Lee estate, to Euna’s embrace.
“Your place or mine?” He asked as he sat in the driver’s seat of his car.
“Anywhere but here,” She responded, eyes blinking down tears as Yoongi drove.
Next: Searching for Seokjin Pt. 2
